Bait and Hook
by Samara44
Summary: (Spoilers:Take place after S04E05. But Carol never killed anyone.) "I brought you here to have some fun! Our world's a difficult place so it's important to find some time to play. I'm not a violent man but sometimes I may need to let my aggressiveness out to make me feel better. It's why you're here, to be at the receiving end." Warnings: violence, torture, possible rape (slash)...
1. Prologue

**_Warnings_: it is a dark fic, so don't read if you don't like that kind of story. Violence, torture, possible rape (slash), characters' death. **

**Unfortunately, I don't own the Walking Dead. A special thanks to my beta 'Spitfire47' who's doing a really great job.**

* * *

**Prologue**

**Present**

Daryl was laying on a musty mattress, unconscious. Michonne was bent over him cleaning off the blood and the dirt from his face and his torso with an old towel revealing his wounds, while Rick was trying to take off his boots and his soaked and tore pants. The hunter's skin was cold under the woman's touches and knew they should do something about it soon if they didn't want him to die of hypothermia. But first, they had to take a good look at him to know how badly he was injured because it seemed like he had lost a good amount of blood already. They had been very lucky to find that small cabin in the woods before the nightfall. Rick and Michonne knew that Daryl wasn't in the state to ride in a car for too long and Hershel and the group were a few hours away from them. They couldn't wait; they had to pull over to take care of their friend.

"I need to change the water," Michonne said, standing up with a metal bucket filled with dirty water.

"Okay, I'm gonna take a look around and try to find a sewing kit to stitch his wounds," Rick responded, taking Daryl's wrist between his fingers to check his pulse. "Be careful outside…"

"Yea…And if you can find other clean towels or something like that…We'll need it…"

Michonne grabbed her katana and one of the two oil lamps and got out of the cabin leaving Rick alone with his injured friend. During the last months fighting against walkers, enemies and diseases had got both of them closer. They were more than friends; Rick was now seeing Daryl more like a little brother. And now, looking at him on the edge of the death, fighting to survive, was making him realized how really important the hunter was for him. He couldn't let him die; he couldn't keep going in this world without him.

"Please, Daryl…Don't give up, man…We need you…I need you…"

* * *

**Flashback (group)**

That night, everything happened so fast; none of them were prepared for it. Yes, they knew the Governor was back because two weeks before he had leaded a bunch of walkers to them after breaking a part of the fences surrounding the prison. They had fought during a few hours to finally win the battle mostly unharmed. They had got rid of the walkers and even managed to kill a few of the Governor's men. But at this moment, when the walls around them began to shake a few seconds after Glenn had hurried inside the prison to warn them about the approach of military tanks, they knew they couldn't win. How a small group of civilians armed with a few rifles could fight military equipment? They knew they had to leave the prison and run if they wanted to save as much lives as possible.

About three hours later, the survivors joined each other at a meeting point about one mile away for the prison. It was Daryl, Rick and Hershel who had thought about it when the Woodbury's people came to live with them. If something was happening and they were separated, they should meet in this old barn where they had hidden a small amount of dry food, water and survival kits.

When the sun appeared in the sky in the morning, they were able to take a good look at themselves. The first thing they noticed was that a lot of them were missing. Yes, they had witnessed a lot of them going down when they were back there and most of the people in cellblock D hadn't made it. Most of the victims were families with children. The Governor's first few strikes had targeted that part of the prison; the occupants didn't get any chance. But Sasha, Tyreese, Daryl, Bob and Carol who weren't in D were still missing.

"We should give them more time," Rick proposed, rocking Judith who was sleeping peacefully in his arms. "If they're not here tomorrow morning, we'll go looking for them."

Everyone was worried about them, but they knew they could have made it so far and just needed more time to find the group. They hoped the five of them were together, because Daryl and Tyreese were strong fighters and they would be able to protect the three others who even if they were capable, were still easier targets.

The members of the group were exhausted, hungry, covered with ashes, mud and blood. So they decided to clean themselves up a bit in the creek next to the barn and to get some rest. They guessed they needed their strength back as soon as possible, because they didn't know what was coming next. They were safe for now, but for how long?

* * *

**Present**

Rick had found a sewing kit in one of the drawers of an old cupboard. He had also found a few barely clean t-shirts that could be used to clean Daryl's wounds. Michonne had come back with fresh water and was finishing examining the front of the hunter's body, describing out loud what she was observing.

"…Bruises around his neck and on his stomach, probably a few broken ribs …Several cuts and burns on his chest…A small bump on the side of the head with a wound that had been stitched up. So he could have a concussion…He has several cuts on his wrists and they are swollen, probably from being restrained too long or fighting against his bonds…But I think the worst are the gun shot in his shoulder and the long cut on his thigh that looked like it had been stitched up and cut again. We need to take care of them first."

"Okay…There're a sleeping bag and a few blankets," Rick said, disposing next to the mattress everything he had found so far that could be used to help Daryl. "We should cover him to keep him warm."

They were not doctor or nurse and had only basic knowledge of first aid procedures. Rick had never done stitches on someone and Michonne had done it once on herself when she was alone, before she found Andrea, a long time ago. Usually, it was always Hershel, Maggie or Carol who were taking care of medical stuff. They knew they had to sterilise the needle so they used the rest of an old bottle of vodka. They started with the bullet wound in the left shoulder which was still bleeding a little. Fortunately, the bullet hadn't been stocked in the hunter's flesh but it meant they had two wounds to take care of. When they were done with the one on his chest, they carefully turned Daryl on his side to fix the one in his upper back. Michonne wet a clean cloth and rinsed the blood that was covering the man's back to have a better view of the wound.

"Fuck!" she let out, removing the cloth.

"What's wrong?" Rick demanded, shifting to have a better view of what the woman was looking at. But when he saw it, he froze. "Shit…" he murmured, shaking his head.

"I hadn't taken the time to have a good look at his back yet…I didn't know…"

Rick and Michonne looked at each other and sighed, sadness and despondency in their face. They wondered if one day they would know the extent of what really happened back there.

* * *

**Flashback (group)**

It was getting dark when Glenn heard sounds coming from the bushes about fifty meters away from them. He was on watch with Maggie and it was the first time something was happening since the afternoon when they had found two walkers heading toward them.

"Go warn the others," he said, pointing his rifle at the noise and getting ready to fire if needed.

Maggie ran to the barn quickly and found the rest of the group, close to each other to keep themselves warm. It was the beginning of the winter and the night were getting really cold. They didn't want to make a fire, scared to be discovered by the Governor or his men. They didn't know if they were still around and didn't want to take any risk.

"Rick…There's something in the woods," Maggie explained, taking her breath. "We don't know what it is…"

Rick nodded and motioned to Carl, Michonne and two other men, Martin and George, to follow him. They each grabbed a gun and went to join Glenn who hadn't moved yet.

"Where is it?"

Glenn was going to show them where the sound was coming from when they heard dry branches and leaves being crashed.

"Guys, it's getting closer…" the Korean warned, trying to distinguish is something was moving.

After a few seconds, they saw a big shadow appearing at the edge of trees. Rick was getting to ready to fire.

"Don't shoot, guys…It's me…" a familiar voice yelled. "Please, I need help…"

The person got closer and they recognized Tyreese. He was carrying something or someone in his arms. Rick and Michonne ran to him and found that it was Carol who was unconscious.

"What happened?" Rick asked, walking back to the barn followed by the others.

"I managed to get out of the prison with Bob and Carol," Tyreese explained, deposing Carol on the ground in the middle of the barn. "But we came face to face with three of the Governor's men. We had our guns so we shoot at them. Carol killed one and I did too. But the third one fired at Bob; he died, a bullet in the head."

"Oh my god…Bob…" Beth murmured, tightening her hold on Judith who was sucking at her bottle. "At least, he won't turn…"

They all knew what she meant by that. None of them would want to become one of those monsters; they would rather prefer being shot in the head if they were dying. Of course, it wasn't easy to kill a loves one, but it wasn't easier to kill the walker of a loves one either. Only a few of them had experienced it, like Carl who had to shoot Shane or Daryl who had to stab his own brother in the head.

"What happened to her?" Hershel asked, examining Carol.

"The guy who killed Bob ran away and we were just outside of the fence, at the edge of the woods, when one of the tanks fired at us. There was a big three next to us and a branch broke and fell on her, knocking her out. I picked her up and ran in the forest. She woke up twice since then, but she wasn't coherent."

"Okay, she probably has a serious concussion," Hershel supposed, checking her vitals.

"And what about Daryl and Sasha? Have you seen them?" Maggie demanded, worried about her friends who were still missing.

"What? Wait…They are not here…Sasha is not here!?" Tyreese said, looking around to be sure he had heard well. "Where's my sister?"

"We don't know…We thought she was with you," Glenn explained.

"No…I didn't see her since we left the prison…"

"Don't worry, Daryl is missing as well…They are probably together. He can protect her…"

"And what if they're not? What if she's by herself? I need to go back…I need to find her," Tyreese said, taking a rifle on the ground and starting to walk away.

"Wait, man," Rick objected, grabbing at the black man's arm. "It's not safe…It's dark and we don't know if the Governor is still around…"

"I don't care…She's my sister and I won't let her down…"

* * *

**Present**

Rick and Michonne were done with the bullet wounds and the long cut on Daryl's right thigh. It was a really deep cut and they had found in the hunter's flesh pieces of a few days old stitches that had been cut. They had removed them, clean the cut and stitched it back. They thought they did a good job, because the wounds weren't bleeding anymore. They just hoped they would not get infected.

When they were done with the front, they rolled Daryl over on his side to work on his back. By the look of it, Rick and Michonne easily guessed that their friend had a hard time. When he was a cop, Rick had seen a lot of women and children being beaten and he could recognize when someone had been beaten with a belt. But what was shocking Rick and Michonne the most, were the several cuts among the belt lashes. They both had seen Daryl's back in the past and knew he had several scars made by his abusive father when he was younger. What they could see now was that every scar had been reopened by a sharp object, probably a knife. There were also two thins wounds on his lower back which looked like he had been stabbed. They were covered with dry blood but Rick and Michonne couldn't say if there were deep or not. They knew if Daryl moved while being on his back the wounds would bleed again. So they decided to stitch the deeper ones and to cover the wounds with bandages that they had found in a first aid kit.

"Can you lower his boxers?" Rick asked, a piece of clean bandage in his hand. "Just want to fix the ones on his lower back."

Michonne nodded and managed to get the underwear under Daryl's hip. She caught a strange pattern on his skin and moved the lamp closer to have a better look.

"What's that?" she demanded, showing the mark to Rick. "It looks like a bruise, but the shape is weird…What could have made that mark?"

Rick touched Daryl's hip and traced the pattern with his finger. He thought about it a moment and looked at Michonne, his eyes wide.

"I think I know…I'm sure he has the same one on the other hip," he supposed, sadness obvious in his voice.

They carefully rolled him on his other side and discovered the same mark. Rick shook his head and ran his hand in his face, sighing.

"I'm sorry, I don't get it…" Michonne said, perplexed.

Rick moved his hand and placed it on the bruise; it had the same shape, but a bit bigger than his own hand.

"Hands…But what about the darker spots on the tips?"

"Fingernails," Rick noted, moving his hand like if he wanted to scratch Daryl's skin.

"You don't really thing he…" she wondered after a moment, worried.

"Can't be sure, yet…But I saw that kind of mark before…Just hope I'm wrong…"

* * *

**Flashback (group)**

Tyreese, Rick and Glenn walked for a few hours pacing the fields and the woods around the prison and checking several roads in the perimeter, but there was no sign of the Governor or his men; they had left. When they were sure it was safe, they decided to take a look at the prison and searched for survivors. Unfortunately, they found only a few walkers and corpses. They checked in the yard to see if there were any of their vehicles that were still working. But most of them had been burned and the others had been severely damaged.

"Where's Daryl's bike?" Glenn demanded, looking around the area where it was usually parked.

"Maybe one of the Governor's men took it," Tyreese proposed, shrugging. He was impatient and just wanted to keep looking for his sister.

"Daryl could have managed to take it and escape," Rick supposed. He knew the hunter really well, and was sure if Daryl had one chance to save his bike, he would take it. "He should have take Sasha with him…"

"We should go take a look at the main road; they could be on their way back."

So they took the main road and walked for about an hour when they spotted something on the side of the road about hundred meters away from them. They hadn't made it to half of the distance when Rick stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Glenn asked, standing next to him.

"There…It's Daryl's crossbow," he said, pointing at the weapon that was resting at the bottom of the ditch.

"DARYL!" Tyreese yelled, looking around while Rick picked up the crossbow.

They started running and found out that what they had spotted first on the side of the road was the hunter's bike.

"DARYL!" they kept yelling. They didn't really care if their voices were attracting walkers; they just wanted to find their friends.

Rick got closer and checked at the motorcycle. He noted that one of the tires was deflated and the side that was on the ground was smashed.

"There is no trace of blood on the bike…"

"But there are some over here," Glenn said, looking at a red stain in the sand a few feet away.

At this moment, they heard something that sounded like a moan coming from being a tree. They got their weapons ready and walked slowly toward the sound. Tyreese was the first one to pass the tree and dropped suddenly on his knees.

"Oh my god, Sasha…" he murmured, taking his sister in his arms.

She had blood on her face and her shirt had a dark patch on the side, but she was conscious.

"Tyreese…" she pronounced weakly, tears running down her cheeks.

"Sasha, where's Daryl?" Rick asked, kneeling next to Tyreese.

"He's gone…"

"What do you mean 'he's gone'?"

"He took him," she explained, sobbing lightly.

"Who took him?" Rick demanded even if he already knew the answer.

"The Governor…"

* * *

**Please, write me a comment...I want to know if you want me to keep going with that story.**


	2. Chapter 1

**_Warnings_: it is a dark fic, so don't read if you don't like that kind of story. Violence, torture, possible rape (slash), characters' death. **

**Unfortunately, I don't own the Walking Dead. A special thanks to my beta 'Spitfire47' who's doing a really great job.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Present**

Rick and Michonne had worked on Daryl for a few hours and when they were done they were completely exhausted. The hunter was still unconscious but he had moaned a few times, showing that he was still with them. They had laid a clean sheet between the injured man and the dirty mattress placed the hunter on his side so he wouldn't worsen the wounds in his back and put a pillow behind him to prevent him from rolling over. They had covered him with the sleeping bag and two thin blankets, but Daryl's body was still cold.

"We need to warm him up," Michonne noted, rubbing the man's shoulder.

"We can't make a fire…It's not safe…"

"So, one of us has to lay under the covers with him."

"Yea, you're right," Rick agreed. "I take the first watch…Lay with him and try to get some rest…"

"Fine…Wake me up in two or three hours so you can get some sleep too…"

Rick nodded and sat in the couch facing the window, his gun next to him. Michonne removed her boots, her pants and her vest before lying under the blankets behind Daryl. She moved the pillow that was between her and the unconscious man and put it under her head. She got closer to Daryl and wrapped carefully an arm around him avoiding his injuries. The hunter's skin felt ice cold against her body but she knew that after a few minutes, her body heat would warm his body up as well. She felt weird to sleep with Daryl while both of them were only in their underwear, but she knew the contact between skins was the fastest way to warm someone. She was close enough to feel his heart beat which was a bit fast but steady. She closed her eyes and fell slowly asleep, listening to Daryl's breathing.

* * *

**Flashback (group)**

The sun was showing at the horizon when Tyreese, Rick and Glenn came back to barn, carrying Sasha. She was half conscious when his brother put her on the ground in front of Hershel. She had been shot in the forearm and in the belly, both bullets had gone right through the flesh. She had lost a good amount of blood and her skin was pale and cold. Since they knew that their enemies were not in the area anymore, they decided to start a fire. Hershel examined Sasha and was glad to note that none of their vital organs had been touched. He cleaned her wounds and stitched her up, making her moan in pain with each touch. Tyreese was really worried about her so when her body finally gave up and she passed out, he was glad; she wouldn't suffer for a while. Hershel knew the barn wasn't a sterile area and even if the bleeding had stopped and there was no big damage to the organs, he was scared about the wounds being infected. But they had so many things to worry about that he decided to keep his thoughts to himself.

Later in the morning, after Sasha had rested a little, Rick walked to her when he noticed she was awake, her back leaning against his brother's side.

"How are you feeling, Sasha?" he asked, kneeling in front of her.

"Not too bad…the pain is bearable…"

"I'm glad about it…I know you're are probably tired, but I need to ask what happened back there. How did you get shot and what happened to Daryl?"

"Rick…Don't you think it can wait?" Tyreese said.

"It's okay Ty…I can tell you what happened…" Sasha assured, before taking a sip of water. "Daryl and I got out of the prison by the back yard. We ran to hide in the forest. Daryl spotted you and Carol being shot by the tank and when she fell on the ground he wanted to go after you. But you were on the other side of the yard and the Governor and his men were in the middle. So we decided to take the other way around but when we arrived at the place where you were supposed to be, you were gone. Daryl wanted to track both of you but someone started to fire at us. So we had to go back near the prison.

"We came close to the cars and Daryl spotted his bike; it was untouched. He managed to get it without being caught and came back in the woods. He pushed it on a certain distance and when he thought we were far enough, we jumped on it and went for the small road heading to the rail track. We rode for a while on the track until we crossed the main road. But as soon as we took it, two jeeps appeared from nowhere and men began to fire at us. Daryl told me to grab his crossbow but the moment I had it in my hands, I received a bullet in the arm, so I dropped it. Suddenly, Daryl lost control of the bike and he told me someone had shoot in the tire. He decreased the speed and told me to jump.

"We were both running when we heard the jeeps stopping a few meters behind us. Someone warned us to stop if we didn't want to get shot. We stopped and turned around. There were six armed men in front of us ready to fire. Daryl told them to kill us already since it was the reason why they came here. The door of one of the jeeps opened and the Governor got out. He said that Daryl was only partially right. He assured that if Daryl was going with him without putting a fight, no one was going to hurt me. Daryl asked him why and the Governor told him that he wanted to have him, Michonne or Rick; that they had unfinished business.

"But when apparently he hesitated too long, the Governor took the gun of one of his men and shot me in the belly. I fell on the ground and Daryl knelt next to me yelling that they were going to pay for this. But I saw arms wrapping around him, pulling him away from me. He was screaming to let him go and was struggling but he was pinned on his stomach on the ground. They used duck tape to tie his hands in his back and gagged him. The whole time, the Governor was standing beside us, grinning. Two men grabbed Daryl by the arms and dragged him in the back of one of the jeeps. They all got back in their vehicles and left, without even looking at me. After that, I was so scared that I went to hide in the woods, where you found me…"

* * *

**Present**

Michonne woke up when she felt movement next to her. She opened her eyes and saw that Daryl was shifting a little. She pushed herself up on her arm to have a better view of her friend's face. She could see by the knit between his eyebrows that he was in pain and she had the confirmation when he began to moan lightly.

"Shhh…Daryl…It's okay…You're safe now," she murmured, running her hand in his hair to calm him down.

But the gesture didn't work because Daryl opened his eyes suddenly and looked in front of him, he panicked. Michonne quickly sat down and leaned over him to make sure he knew she was there.

"Daryl, calm down…It's me…Everything is going to be okay," she assured, rubbing his shoulder.

It took him a while to realize where he was and who was next to him, but when he he glanced at her and gave her an interrogative look.

"Why the hell you're sleeping with me, woman? And where are your clothes?" Daryl asked with a weak voice. "You want to take advantage of me while I'm unconscious?"

Michonne shook her head and watched Daryl. But her neutral expression wavered when the hunter began to moan and tried to roll over onto his back.

"Daryl, I know you're in pain, but you have to stop moving if you don't want to injure yourself even more."

After a few minutes and several deep breaths, Daryl managed to calm himself. He was really in pain but he had felt worst before. His entire body was sore and he could feel the blood pulsing in his head. He didn't really know the extent of his injuries but guessed he had to trust Michonne on this. He was tired and when he was relaxed enough, he slowly fell asleep.

When Michonne was sure Daryl was sleeping, she got up made sure he was well covered and put her clothes back on. She looked around the cabin and noted that Rick wasn't there. So she went outside and found him sitting on a wooden bench on the small balcony. His eyes were fixed on the horizon where the sun was raising slowly.

"Daryl had wakened up," she said, sitting next to her friend. "But he's sleeping now."

"How is he?" he said, still looking in front of him.

"He's in pain…but I guess it's manageable for now."

"He will need to gain some strength back if we want to go back to the group," Rick said, yawning.

"You should get some rest. I take the watch."

Without arguing, Rick stood up and went inside. He took a look at Daryl's sleeping figure and realized how much he was tired. So he took his boots and his belt off and lied under the blankets, next to the hunter. The moment his head touched the pillow, he was already asleep.

* * *

**Flashback (group)**

Hershel, Rick, Tyreese, Michonne, Glenn and Maggie were sitting around a second fire at a certain distance of the rest of the group. They had to decide what to do next. The prison wasn't safe anymore so they had to find a new shelter. But travelling by foot with a group of about twenty people wasn't an easy task. They had to find transportation, but more food and water as well.

"There's probably some stuff that we can use back at the prison," Michonne suggested. "I'm gonna go take a look tomorrow morning."

"I'll go with you," Glenn proposed.

"I'll go too," Maggie added.

"Okay…Now…What about Daryl?" Rick demanded, a bit uncomfortable. He knew they couldn't afford to put the whole group in danger to save only one live, well, if the hunter was still alive.

"We don't even know where they took him…"

"Are we even sure that he's still alive?"

"Daryl wouldn't want us to risk our lives for him…"

"Maybe…But what Daryl would do if it was one of us?" Rick questioned, pissed about the others' reaction.

"He would risk his own life for us…Like he did when Maggie and I were at Woodbury," Glenn answered quickly.

"Glenn is right…We can't let him down."

They all looked at each other and nodded. They knew it wouldn't be easy but at least, they would have to try. Daryl did so much for the group; they had to pay him back.

"With what Sasha told us, I think the Governor wants Daryl alive or he would have killed him when he found them," Hershel said. "That man may be sick but he's really not stupid."

"Hershel is right, there's still a lot of chance that Daryl is alive…But the thing is, what that bastard will do to him?" Michonne wondered.

"We shouldn't think about that right now…First thing first…" Rick said. "Tomorrow, after you three will come back from the prison, we'll move. We need to find a better place for the group. When everyone will be safe, I'll leave and try to find Daryl."

"I'm going with you," Tyreese replied firmly. "The Governor try to kill my sister, I won't let him go away with that."

"I'll go too," Michonne added. "He's going to pay for what he did to Andrea…"

* * *

**Flashback (Daryl)**

Daryl was laying on his side in the back of the jeep, facing Martinez's feet. He didn't know for how long they rode, but he couldn't feel his arms and hands that were tied up in his back. He had tried a few times to sit up to have a more comfortable position, but Martinez had kicked him each time forcing him to stay where he was. His mouth was dried from being gagged so long and he was thirsty. He had no idea why the Governor had decided to take him; it would have been easier to just kill him. He was worried about Sasha; they were far away from the group when she had been shot. The chance for her to survive with a bullet in the stomach was thin. He hoped the others would find her and that she would be okay. Daryl was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt the jeep stop.

"End of the ride, Dixon," Martinez said, kicking him lightly in the belly. "Come on, get up!"

Martinez grabbed Daryl by an arm and pulled him up. He leaded him at the back door and pushed him out when the jeep door was opened, making the hunter fall hard on his stomach on the ground. Daryl let out a faint moan when his breathing had been cut for a few seconds.

"Easy, Martinez," The Governor said. "Don't be too rough with him, yet…We wouldn't want him to die before the fun beginning, would we?"

Grinning, Martinez nodded and helped Daryl to stand up in front of his boss. The hunter was beginning to get a bit scared; standing unarmed and tied up in front of a sick bastard who wanted to 'have fun' with him was nothing to reassure him. But he wouldn't let it shown; he wouldn't give that pleasure to Philip Blake.

The Governor raised a hand in front of Daryl's face and smiled when he saw him tense.

"Yep, I'm going to enjoy this!" he said, patting the hunter's cheek lightly. "Martinez, show our guest his new home!"

The Hispanic nodded and roughly gripped Daryl's upper arm, leading him toward an old mansion which looked like it was inhabited for years. The hunter looked around and realized that they were in the middle of large field surround by high walls made of bricks and stones that looked as old as the house. It looked like there was only one entrance on the property that was closed by a huge metal gate. The tanks that had attacked the prison were there and Daryl could count about fifteen men and a few women in the yard.

"Impressing, isn't it!" Martinez noted, pushing Daryl in front of him when they passed the front door.

Of course, the hunter didn't react and kept looking around. If he wanted to have a chance to escape, he would have to know every details of that place.

Once inside, they climbed down a few stairs and ended up in the basement. They walked into a long corridor until Martinez stopped and opened a door. He took a flashlight from the pocket of his vest and turned it on. He pushed Daryl into the room and made him walk until he was facing the wall opposite to the door. There was no window but the flashlight was enough to allow Daryl to distinguish his surroundings. The humid and cold room was small and was empty of any furniture. The brick walls were nude and the floor was made of concrete.

"On your knees," Martinez ordered.

But when Daryl didn't obey, he gripped at his hair and hit his head on the wall, knocking out the hunter for a few seconds. Martinez took this opportunity to push Daryl down and force him on his knees. He grabbed a chain that was hanging from the wall and took a pair of handcuff from his back pocket. He put them around Daryl's wrists and locked them with the chain. He took his knife and cut the tape around the hunter's wrists and removed his gag as well.

"If you keep acting like that, you won't survive long here," Martinez warned, walking away. "And Philip is less patient than I am."

"Fuck you, asshole!" Daryl let out, glad to be able to talk again. He was furious and was pulling on the chain to try to break it. He was beginning to have a headache and knew he had probably a bump on the head where Martinez had knocked him.

"Won't work," Martinez said, facing him when he reached the door. "You better keep your strength and get some rest…You'll need it for what is coming…" The Hispanic left the room, closed the door behind him and locked it.

Daryl kept struggling against his bonds for a few minutes until he understood that there was nothing he could do to escape at that moment. Without Martinez's flashlight, the room was pitch black. He couldn't even see his boots. He sat down on the floor, leaned his head against the wall and waited; well, there was nothing else he could do.

* * *

**Please let me know what you think...Comments or reviews are like reward to me...They make me update faster...**


	3. Chapter 2

**_Warnings_: it is a dark fic, so don't read if you don't like that kind of story. Violence, torture, possible rape (slash), characters' death. **

**Unfortunately, I don't own the Walking Dead. A special thanks to my beta 'Spitfire47' who's doing a really great job.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Present**

"Nooo…Mmmm…Stop…"

Rick opened his eyes and looked quickly around him; he was so deeply asleep that he had forgotten where he was. He was wondering what had waking up until he glanced at Daryl who was moaning and shaking lightly. Rick sat up and looked at his friend's face; he had a frown between his eyebrows and his jaw was tense. He touched the hunter's shoulder and noted that he wasn't cold anymore.

"Nooo…" Daryl whispered again.

"Daryl…Daryl…" Rick called softly, patting the other man's arm. "It's just a dream…you're safe, now…"

"Please, stop…" the hunter begged, beginning to struggle against the sleeping bag.

"Daryl, wake up…" Rick said, shaking his friend. He didn't want him to hurt himself.

"STOP!" Daryl yelled, pushing Rick away and rolling over on his back.

"DARYL…You have to wake up," Rick demanded, gripping at the hunter's arms and pinning him on his sides.

The moment Daryl couldn't move anymore, he opened his eyes and looked with terror in front of him. He was shaking again and was covered with sweat.

"Michonne…" he murmured, obviously lost.

"No, it's Rick…Michonne is outside."

"Rick?"

"Yea…It's okay, man, you're safe," Rick assured, releasing the other man. He looked at his hands and found out that his right one had blood on it. "Daryl, turn on your side, I think you're bleeding..."

The hunter did as he was told and Rick quickly saw that the sheet had blood on it as well. He removed the sleeping bag from Daryl's upper body and took a look at his bandages; two were soaked through with blood.

"Some of your wounds had reopened…Don't move, I'll take care of it…"

Rick stood up and at the same time, Michonne opened the door and entered the cabin.

"What's going on?" She asked, looking with worry at Rick's hand.

"It's nothing…Daryl rolled accidentally on his back…Just need to stitch him up again."

Michonne nodded and went to sit on the mattress, next to the injured man's feet.

"Are you okay?"

"Yea…" Daryl murmured, not looking at her. He was still a bit shaken and realized that his entire body was painful again. He would have loved taking pain killers.

Michonne gave an interrogative look to Rick who responded by whispering the word 'nightmares'. She glanced sadly at Daryl who looked like a little pitiful child. He had always been the tough one, the badass of the group so it was strange to see him so beaten. "_What the Governor had done to him?_" she thought, patting his injured friend's leg. But the more she was thinking about it, the more she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know.

* * *

**Flashback (group)**

After another night at the barn, Sasha was doing better but everybody was worried about Carol. She was conscious now, but she had memory loss and the entire left side of her body was numb. She had a constant headache and was nauseous. Hershel kept her monitored but there was nothing he could do except giving her pain killers.

The trip back to the prison was fortunately worth it. Michonne, Maggie and Glenn had found medical supply, some water and food that they had bring back with them. They also found a few weapons, blankets, clothes and other few things that could be useful. But the best discovery they made was the grey bus that they had used to bring back the people from Woodbury the day the Governor had left. It hadn't been damage and there was still gasoline in the tank. So when they came back at the barn, they could see smile on many faces; they had transportation now.

"We need to decide which way we are going now," Hershel said to Rick, Michonne, Glenn and Tyreese. They were sitting apart from the rest of group and were planning their next move.

"I think we should go east," Michonne proposed, looking at a half burned map they had found in the prison. "I've been over there when I was looking for the Governor and it was pretty quiet; no big herds or other surprises. And there're small towns where we can stop. But we'll have to use these roads over there; we won't be able to get through the big car jams on the highway with the bus."

"Good, look perfect to me," Rick said, standing up. "We don't have to wait here any longer. We're too exposed. So everyone get ready, we'll leave in one hour."

* * *

**Flashback (Daryl)**

Daryl was woken up when someone unlocked the door. He didn't know how he managed to fall asleep in that position, sitting on the floor with his hands tied up behind his back. His arms were completely numb from being like that for too long. He was cold, hungry and thirsty but when the door opened he was sure that his visitor wasn't coming to help him with his needs.

"Dixon, on your knees!" the person entering the room commanded.

Daryl recognized Martinez's voice but couldn't see him. The Hispanic man was pointing his flashlight in the hunter's eyes making him impossible to see in front of him.

"Fuck you!" Daryl let out, no moving at all. He knew it wasn't probably the good time to be a smart ass but he was so pissed that he didn't want to cooperate.

"Oh, really!?" Martinez said, laughing lightly. "John, can you show our guest who's the boss here?"

"Of course!"

Since Daryl was blind by the flashlight, he hadn't seen that there was someone else in the room. And he just had the time to see a shadow before he was kicked hard in the stomach, making him fall on his side.

"Asshole!" he hissed, gasping for air.

But Daryl didn't have the time to catch his breath because he received quickly another kick followed by a punch on the side of the face. This time he didn't say anything and stayed on the floor curled up in ball to try to protect himself for a possible upcoming kick.

"Good…Are you going to kneel, now?" Martinez asked the impatience was obvious in his voice.

When Daryl didn't move, the Hispanic man nodded at John who grabbed the hunter's shirt and pulled him on his knees. He gripped at his hair and pulled back hard to keep him in place, making Daryl whine by surprise and because of the sudden pain in his skull.

"Daryl, I'm going to remove your handcuffs from the chain and I'm going to put them back, but in front of you," Martinez explained, lowering the flashlight from the hunter's eyes to make sure he could see him. "If you're not coopering or if you do something stupid, we'll have to hurt you again. So are you going to behave?"

Daryl gave the other man a hateful look but nodded lightly. Martinez nodded back and un-cuffed him.

"Now, move your hands in front of you," he ordered, the enforcer was ready to react quickly if the hunter was trying anything.

Daryl did as he was told and the cuffs were back around his wrists.

"Come on, now, stand up!"

John let go of the hunter's hair, grabbed his arm and pulled him up on his feet. Martinez went to stand on the other side, seized his other arm and leaded him in the corridor and upstairs. Now that they weren't in the dark basement anymore, Daryl could see the man whose name was John. He was one of the men who were in the jeep when he got caught. He was about as tall as the Governor and very muscular. He was about his age and looked like he wasn't the type of guy who smiled often. They walked in the main hall and passed in front of a large living room where several people were discussing. Some of them glanced at Daryl and gave him a disgusted look. He didn't even know them and they hated him already. He was wondering what the Governor had told them to make them believe his group and him were a threat. They stopped in front of a double wooden door and waited while Martinez knocked on it.

"Come on in!"

John opened the door and Martinez pushed Daryl inside. It was a huge library that was obviously used as the Governor's office. The most part of the walls were covered with hundreds of dusty books that no one was apparently caring about now that the world had turned into hell. There was a large fireplace fitted in one of the walls and a pile of logwoods next to it. There was also a board on the middle of the room with maps and notes pinned on it. The Governor was sitting behind a desk looking at another map.

"Welcome to my new home, Daryl," the Governor said, standing up and grinning at the hunter. "Please, take a seat."

When the hunter didn't move Martinez pushed him in front of the desk and forced him to sit on a chair. The Governor nodded to the Hispanic man who moved away and went to sit on a couch with John.

"What do you want?" Daryl asked, looking at the man with daggers in his eyes. "I ain't going to help you with shit, so you're better just kill me now or let me go…"

"Hahahaha…Do you really think that you have something to say about it!?" the Governor demanded, walking to go stand at the front of his desk. "But don't worry, you won't have to do anything to help me…Just your presence here is enough."

"What the fuck do you want?"

"To have some fun! Our world is a difficult place to be now and I think it's important to find some time and some way to play. I'm not seeing myself like a violent man but sometimes it may happen that I need to let my aggressiveness out to make me feel better, calmer. It's why I brought you here, to be at the receiving end. And in the same time, maybe your friends will decide to rescue you so I may have a chance to take my revenge on Rick and Michonne as well…Well, if they are still alive."

"Fuck you!" Daryl spat out, standing up and closing the distance between him and the Governor. "You're just a fucking asshole! Do you really think I'm going to play your little game?"

"I guess it's time to find out!" the Governor proposed, smiling. "Guys, take him over there!"

Without having time to react, Daryl was roughly grabbed by John and Martinez and leaded into a corner of the room where a large table made from a dark solid wood was placed. At each leg of the table, a rope was knotted at the base.

"Put him on his back," the Governor demanded, walking toward them and crossing his arms on his chest.

John and Martinez pushed Daryl against the table and tried to lay him on it but the hunter was struggling and fighting them too much to be able to do so. When Daryl managed to hit Martinez on the nose with his elbow, the Governor sighed loudly and, after getting closer, punched Daryl hard on the side of the head. The hunter was knocked out for a few seconds and almost dropped on the floor if it wasn't of John who caught him in his arms. Taking advantage of the situation, they finally succeeded to lay Daryl on the table. They quickly tied up his feet at two corners of the table with the ropes and did the same with his hands once he was un-cuffed. The hunter struggled against his bonds but realized soon that he couldn't escape. So he decided to stay still and waited for what was coming.

"Thank you, guys…I won't need you anymore," the Governor said, walking to the fireplace. He took a few pieces of woods and put them above the old ashes. He added tore paper and light a match to start the fire. The wood was really dried because the fire got intense quickly. "Won't be too long, Daryl…I just want to warm up the room…" he said, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace.

Daryl sighed and shook his head. He didn't know what the Governor was planning to do with him but he guessed easily that he wouldn't like it. He knew the asshole was taking his time by purpose just to show him who was in charge and to increase his stress. Daryl just wanted to get over it soon.

"Well, I think it's ready," the Governor announced after a few minutes, standing up and taking the metal fire poker to move a log that wasn't burning. Then, he moved the tip of the poker and let him rest in the embers. After about a minute, he raised it, looked at the tip and, grinning, moved next to the table. "Time to play!"

Daryl tensed when he saw the Governor approaching the tip of the poker near his lower stomach where his shirt was showing some skin. Then he felt the hot metal on him, he bit the inside of his mouth to prevent him from crying in pain. Daryl tried to jerk away but couldn't move more than a few centimetres. The Governor let the tip of the poker on the other man's skin until it wasn't red anymore.

"I think it's time to warm it up again," he said, grinning evilly.

The Governor went to the fireplace to put the poker back in the embers and came back to the table. He looked at the burn he had made about a minute ago and nodded with appreciation.

"We should make more space, don't you think?" he asked, taking hold of Daryl's shirt with his hands and tearing it open. The hunter's chest and stomach were now bare. "Hmm, that's better…"

The Governor went back to the fireplace and picked up the poker. He made sure the tip was red before walking back to Daryl.

"You know, you can moan, cry or yell if you want…Its part of the game!"

"Fuck you!"

The Governor shook his head and touched Daryl's skin with the hot poker again. He kept doing it for about half an hour while the hunter was keeping his mouth shut. He was biting at the inside of his cheeks hard enough to taste blood, not wanting to show how painful it was and how much he was suffering. He didn't want to give that pleasure to his captor.

"I was hoping you would be more cooperative," the Governor said coming back from the fireplace with the hot poker. "I said that I want to hear you scream."

Daryl turned his head toward the other man and spat at him, covering his cheek with blood and saliva. The Governor wiped his face with the back of his hand and quickly pressed the tip of the poker into the hunter's flesh. But the prisoner kept his mouth shut.

The Governor kept burning Daryl a few times until a faint moan escaped the redneck's lips.

"Well, I think it's enough for now," he announced, looking a bit pissed. He walked away and put the poker near the fireplace. "I have some business I need to take care of."

The Governor went to the door, opened it and walked out of the room. Daryl thought he might have a chance to escape so he pulled as much as possible on the ropes but he was just tightening them even more around his wrists and ankles.

"Don't waste your energy," the Governor warned, entering the room, followed by Martinez and John. "Take him back downstairs…And give him some water and food…I don't want him to die before I'm done with him," he commanded, going to sit behind his desk.

The two men untied Daryl, cuffed his hands and stood him up. Then, they leaded him across the main hall and into the basement. They entered the room where he was previously held and chained him, but this time, with his hands in front of him.

"I'll be back in a minute with food and water," Martinez said, before leaving the room with John.

Daryl didn't take the time to examine his torso while he was in the library and now that he was in the dark, he couldn't see anything. But he didn't need to look at the burns to know that it hurt like hell. "_And it's just the beginning_", he thought, sitting on the floor and leaning his back against the wall. Waiting for the food and the water that were much needed, he wondered how far the Governor would go with the torture and especially, how far he would be able to tolerate it before he broke and let his enemy win the game.

* * *

**Please, let me know what you think...Reviews and comments are like rewards to me and they help my muse.**


	4. Chapter 3

**_Warnings_: it is a dark fic, so don't read if you don't like that kind of story. Violence, torture, possible rape (slash), characters' death. **

**Unfortunately, I don't own the Walking Dead. A special thanks to my beta 'Spitfire47' who's doing a really great job.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Present**

"We need to find more food," Michonne reported, eating the remnant of a can of beans with a spoon, "and some meds for Daryl."

She was sitting on the bench outside with Rick. It was the middle of their third day at the cabin and they were getting short on food and water. Daryl wasn't getting better; he had so much trouble getting some sleep because of the pain so he wasn't able to rest enough to get his strength back. And he was nauseous, so he didn't want to eat anything. Rick and Michonne were also worried that his wounds became infected so they tried to keep them as clean as possible with what they found in the cabin.

"Yea, I know. But we can't leave him alone," Rick said standing up and pacing up and down the gallery. "I'll go…You just have to stay here and take care of him," he proposed after a few seconds.

"Fine…But where will you go? It's not safe, we don't know if they're still around. And not to mention the big herd we encountered just before we left the main road…"

"Don't worry, I won't try anything stupid," Rick assured, squeezing Michonne's shoulder gently.

They both went back inside to make a list of their needs. Daryl was lying on his back, sleeping. But by the moans escaping his lips, they knew he would be awake soon. They knew the sheet would be stained with blood again, but the hunter wasn't able to rest on his side for too long. Either he lied on his good shoulder but hurt his injured thigh, either he rested on the side of his good leg but got uncomfortable because of the wounds in his shoulder. Daryl had decided that he didn't care about losing a small amount of blood as long as he could manage to get some sleep.

After Rick had left about thirty minutes later, Michonne sat on the couch and grabbed the comic book from the table. The day before she had found a box packed with about fifty of those and was really glad about it. Reading them was helping her forget about the apocalypse and the worries they all had. She decided she would bring the box with them when they would be ready to leave to give the comics to Carl who loved them as well.

"Michonne…"

The black woman let go of her reading to look at a pair of tired blue eyes fixed on her. She smiled and got up to go kneel next to the mattress.

"Hey, Daryl…How are you doing?" she asked, touching the man's forehead with the back of her hand. By the way he reacted to her touch, she knew he didn't like it, but she didn't want to take any chance to miss the beginning of a fever.

"Like shit," he complained, closing his eyes and exhaling loudly. "I ain't feeling like I'm getting better…"

"It's okay; it's not your fault. Rick left for a run. He's gonna try to find food and medication."

"He's gonna make himself kill…"

"No, he won't, don't say that," Michonne disapproved, shaking her head. "Is there something you want me to do to make you feel better?"

"Shoot me…" Daryl almost begged in a whisper.

"It's not funny, Dixon!"

"It ain't a joke. It's gonna be easier without me for both of you."

"No it won't…And we won't leave you behind and we won't shoot you either. So, do you want something else?"

"Water, maybe…I'm thirsty…"

Michonne nodded, stood up and went to get one of the few bottles of water they had left. She came back and sat on the mattress next to her friend. She helped him drinking a few sips and lied down on her back beside him.

"Do you think we'll get through this shit?" Daryl asked, shifting a little to get comfortable but whining in pain when he put too much pressure on his injured leg by accident.

"I'm sure we will…One day…"

Michonne didn't know what the hunter was talking about exactly but supposed that a little bit of hope couldn't hurt. She didn't know if she sound convincing because deep down, she wasn't convinced at all.

* * *

**Flashback (group)**

Tyreese was driving the bus for about three hours when they decided to pull over in the middle of a small town. There were a small grocery store, a pharmacy and even a hunting store. Rick who was sitting in the front seat stood up and turned to look at the group.

"We'll form three groups. One will go at the grocery store, the other one at the pharmacy and the last one, with me, at the hunting store. Glenn, I want you to find one or two vehicles that we can use."

They took a few minutes to decide who would go where. Tyreese was chosen to go to the grocery store with George and Martin while Michonne would accompany Hershel and Maggie at the pharmacy. Rick proposed to Carl to come with him at the hunting shop. The others had to stay inside or around the bus in case they had to leave quickly.

About one hour later and the kill of about twenty walkers, everyone was back at the bus. They didn't find plenty of food, but they found enough to survive for three or four days. They got more lucky with the pharmacy where they found, in a locked back store, a box packed with formula for Judith, a few bottles of painkiller and antibiotics, all the materiel Hershel would need if someone got hurt or sick and even five big bottles of water that were usually used in water dispenser. Rick didn't find any guns, but he found four sleeping bags, two tents, a few knifes, about ten boxes of ammos and a few arrows that could be used with Daryl's crossbow. When Rick picked them up, he felt a knot in the stomach; he really had to find his friend.

About twenty minutes later, when the sun began to be low in the sky, the bus left the town followed by Glenn and Maggie in a black car and Michonne and Carl in a red truck. The Korean even found enough gas in the several vehicles parked in the main street to fill a few cans that he had packed in the back of the truck.

About ten miles away from the town, they passed a small church and because it was getting dark, Rick decided they should stop for the night. Tyreese and Michonne entered first and killed two walkers, a priest and a woman that were trapped inside. When they were sure there was no other bad surprise, the rest of the group entered as well. It wasn't a palace, but they had a roof for the night and they were safe, for now.

* * *

**Flashback (Daryl)**

Daryl was pacing as far as the chain was allowing him to. He was bored to stay in that dark room. A few hours ago Martinez had brought him a bottle of water with a bowl of cold oatmeal. It wasn't really tasty but at least he wasn't hungry anymore. When he was done eating he had slept probably a few hours and when he had wakened up he was completely freezing. It was why he had decided to stand up and move a bit to try to warm himself up. The burns on his torso were still painful but it was bearable. He had no idea of what time it was, for how long he was there and when someone would come to see him again.

All this time by himself allowed him to think a lot about his friends. Daryl was worried about them and wondered how many of them had made it after the Governor's attack. He hoped that Rick and the group thought he was dead because he didn't want them to come after him. He knew if they would decide to look for him and found out this place, Rick and Michonne would probably get tortured and killed slowly and the others massacred. He didn't want that; his life wasn't worth it. Daryl knew the Governor would keep torturing him until he got bored or until he died from the treatments he was receiving. But he didn't care to suffer as long as his friends were safe.

The hunter was still walking around thinking about keeping his family safe when he heard the door being unlocked. He stopped his pacing and waited to see what was coming. The door opened and Daryl was blind again by the flashlight pointing at his eyes.

"Hey Dixon, how are you today?" Martinez asked, playfully. "Are you ready for the second round?"

"Fuck you!"

"Hahaha…Do you never have something else to say?"

"Ain't anything to say to you," Daryl let out, not moving a muscle and waiting while the Hispanic man was walking toward him. "You're just the asshole who served another one who thinks he's more important…"

"I'm not coming here because I'm forced, dumbass; it's because I want to," Martinez explained, lowering his flashlight and stopping in front of Daryl but staying out of reach. "You can't imagine how good it feels to bring you to Philip knowing what he will do to you. But the best part it's when I have to take you back here and witness how beaten and weak you are after your meeting with him. And knowing it's going to get worst each day, I can't wait to see how you'll look like in one week…Well, if you're still alive!"

"I'm going to kill you," Daryl snapped out, trying to hit the other man but failing because of the chain restraining him.

"Yea, sure you are…Now, on your knees; he's waiting for you…"

"Make me!" the hunter challenged, ready to fight.

"I have no problem with that," Martinez said, grinning. "John, Shumpert…I need a hand in here," he yelled looking toward the door.

The two men appeared in the doorframe and walked into the room.

"Who's the weak one, now?" Daryl asked, looking at the other man with daggers. He knew he didn't have any chance against the three of them but he was more furious than scared. "You're not even able to do the job yourself."

"Don't care," the Hispanic said, shrugging. "Guys, catch him!"

Smiling, John and Shumpert walked toward Daryl who took a few steps back to give some loose to the chain. It took a few minutes to the men to control the hunter, but before they overpowered him and had him kneeling in front of Martinez, the redneck had managed to kick Shumpert in the groin, making him curse in pain and punch John on the face with his elbow, giving him an eminent black eye.

"You think that's funny?" the Hispanic man questioned, looking at a smiling Daryl. "We'll see if you laugh again after this…" Martinez walked closer and without giving the other man time to react, his fist connected with the hunter's jaw, cutting a part of his lower lip. "This is for the punch you gave me yesterday…" Then, he took a step back and kicked Daryl on the side, above his hip and did it another time, but this time on his lower belly. If it wasn't for the two other men who were holding him, the hunter would have rolled over on the floor, in pain. "And these two were for John and Shumpert…Now, I'm gonna unchain you and you're better stay still…"

While Martinez was removing the chain from his handcuffs, Daryl licked his lips and noted that he was bleeding and by the pain he was feeling, he guessed his stomach would probably be dark purple in a few hours. He knew he deserved it; he should have done what Martinez had told him to do. But he was so upset about being the Governor's prisoner that he didn't know why he should cooperate. He wanted to make his captors' job as hard as possible.

"Good…Now, stand up…I hope you're ready, because Philip's gonna be really pissed."

John and Shumpert pulled Daryl up and gave him a rough push on the back to make him follow Martinez who was in front of them. They took the stairs and when they reached the main hall, the hunter could hear people chatting and laughing in the living room. When they passed in front of them, they looked at him again like he was a dangerous terrorist. When they arrived at the Governor's office, the door was already opened, so they entered and found him playing in the fire with the metal poker. When he noticed their presence, he put the poker in a rack next to the fireplace and walked to join them.

"What happened?" the Governor asked, looking at John's and Daryl's face.

"Our guest was a smartass and didn't want to cooperate. So I needed to teach him how to behave," Martinez explained.

"Well, we'll see if he still wants to play hard to get after our quality time together…Bend him over the table, his hands and feet wide apart."

The Hispanic man un-cuffed Daryl and let John and Shumpert grabbing his upper arms and leading him to the table. Martinez followed behind and pushed Daryl roughly on the back to bend him over, his torso and face on the table. The redneck was struggling against them, so Martinez had to use a lot of strength to keep him down while the two other men tied the ropes around Daryl's wrists and ankles.

"Done," Shumpert noted, moving away from the table.

"You see, Daryl, even when you fight you're still too weak!" Martinez whispered in the redneck's ear. He took a handful of the other man's hair and hit his forehead hard on the table making him see stars for a few seconds. "I wonder what Merle would think of you if he could see you like that…"

The Hispanic man let go of him and left the room with John and Shumpert.

"Don't worry, Daryl, Merle always knew he was the strong and powerful brother," the Governor assured playfully, standing behind Daryl. "And now, what about getting started with our little session…"

The tall man walked to the side of the table so the hunter could see him. He took a knife from the sheath of his belt and tested the sharpness of the blade by sliding the tip of his finger on it. When a drop of blood appeared, he grinned with enjoyment.

The Governor walked back behind Daryl and let his hand run on his lower back, making him tense.

"First, I'm going to get that shirt out of the way," he said, cutting the cloth in pieces and dropping them on the floor. "Mmmm, that's interesting…" he murmured, running his fingers up and down Daryl's back.

"Who did that to you?" he wondered, tracing the scars visible on the other man's skin. "Merle? Your father? Someone else who liked to mark you as his own?" the Governor guessed, smiling at that last thought.

But Daryl didn't say anything. He just stayed still and tried to relax even if he hated the feeling of his captor's hands on him. He didn't want to show him the effect he had on him.

"Whatever…But maybe if I cut them open again, you'll remember…" the Governor suggested, approaching the knife above the tattoo on his right shoulder blade.

He pressed the blade against Daryl's skin and followed the long scar finishing in the middle of his back, on the left side of his spine. The hunter could feel the knife cutting his flesh but since it wasn't too deep, the pain was tolerable. The Governor kept working on Daryl's back until every scar was reopened and bleeding.

"I'm a bit disappointed, Daryl," the tall man said, putting his knife back in its sheath. "It seems like I'm the only one active in that game…It's time for some action, don't you think?"

The Governor moved away and walked to his desk. Daryl could feel his blood running down his back and into his pants. He turned his head to look at the other man and went he realized he was busied searching something in different drawers he began pulling against the ropes. But like the last time, his move was just tightening them even more around his ankles and wrists. Sighing, his attention went back to the Governor who had apparently found what he was looking for and was walking back to him.

"Look what I found," the man said, showing a bottle alcohol to Daryl and opening the lid. "It's very important that these wounds don't get infected…"

On these words, the Governor took a step closer and poured half the liquid of the bottle onto the hunter's back.

"Arhhhhhhh," Daryl groaned, surprised by the sudden pain. "Son of a bitch!"

"What? You're injured; I'm just taking care of you," the Governor explained, laughing.

"I swear you're gonna pay for this!" the hunter hissed, feeling the burn of the alcohol fading away.

"Yea, yea I'm sure I will. Now, what about taking it to the next level…"

The Governor put the bottle on the floor, got closer to the table and ran his hand on Daryl's side until he reached the front of his pants, making the redneck buck away. He unbuckled his belt and removed it. Daryl had lost weight and without his belt, his pants a bit too big were now hanging low on his hips.

"I'm sure I'm going to enjoy the next part…"

Without saying anything else, the Governor gave one whip on Daryl's lower back with the belt. The hunter had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from screaming. The tall man whipped him once again, but this time, hitting one of the cuts he had just made. This time the pain had increased to a new level and Daryl let out a low groan. Noticing his prisoner's new reaction, the Governor kept beating him by ensuring that the belt always touched one of the still open wounds. By reflex, Daryl tried to move away by laying his stomach on the table, putting pressure on the burns made the day before. It wasn't a good idea because it was hurting as well. After a few more belt lashes, the hunter couldn't hide that he was suffering anymore and let out a loud complain.

"Yea, keep going…I like the sound of that," the Governor said, increasing the strength in his arm.

Daryl hated not being able to control himself. He didn't want to look like he was weak but it was too much; the pain was intolerable. He could feel tears filling his eyes and his entire body sweating and shaking. After a few mores lashes, his legs gave up under him but the ropes around his wrists kept him in place. He thought he was going to pass out when the Governor stopped the torture.

"I think it's enough for now I don't want to hurt my arm," the tall man decided, putting the belt on a small table next to the fireplace. "I'll keep it, if you don't mind I'm sure we'll need it again soon."

Daryl took a look at his belt and noticed that bloody pieces of his flesh had stick to the leather. He didn't want to think about how his back looked like now.

"I think I made a little bit of a mess up there," the Governor observed, moving back behind the redneck and running a finger down his back. "I should clean it a bit." The tall man took the bottle of alcohol from the floor and poured the rest of the liquid on Daryl's back.

"AARGHHHHHHH," the hunter cried out, not caring about hiding his suffering anymore.

Daryl felt the ropes around his wrists being removed. Not able to bear his weight, he slid slowly off the table and fell on the floor. The last thing he saw before he passed out was the Governor standing next to him, an evil grin on his face.

* * *

**Please, let me know what you think...Reviews and comments are like rewards to me and they help my muse. So they make me update my stories faster.**


	5. Chapter 4

**_Warnings_: it is a dark fic, so don't read if you don't like that kind of story. Violence, torture, possible rape (slash), characters' death. **

**Unfortunately, I don't own the Walking Dead. A special thanks to my beta 'Spitfire47' who's doing a really great job.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Present**

Michonne was woken up suddenly when she heard noises coming from outside the cabin. She sat up on the couch where she was laying and looked around her. The cabin was in the dark and outside was even darker. The oil lamp she had lighted a while ago was extinguished and she had apparently fallen asleep while reading one of the comic books.

Michonne stood up and searched for the flashlight she had left on the table in case the lamp went out. When she found it, she turned it on and lit Daryl to be sure he was okay. She saw that he was sleeping and still breathing, so she took her katana leaning against the couch and walked carefully toward the door. She tried to check outside but it was too dark and even with the flashlight she couldn't see anything because of the reflection in the window.

When Michonne heard noises again, she thought it could be Rick who was back and might need help. So she decided to go take a look outside. She moved the desk she had put against the door and opened the door pointing her light in front of her. She got out, closed the door and climbs down the few stairs.

"Rick?" she murmured when she heard footsteps coming her way.

Michonne kept walking carefully toward the sound scanning her surrounding with the flashlight. When a familiar groan came from her right side she quickly moved her light to spot five walkers a few feet away from her.

"Shit!"

She took a few steps back and got ready to use her katana. Michonne managed to kill easily three of them before one of the two remnants, a tall man in a dirty suit, lost balance and fell on her, making her fall as well under him and released her katana. He was going to bite her arm when she succeeded at piercing his skull with the knife she kept in her belt. She just had the time to push him away from her before the last walker, a woman in a sunbath dress, grabbed her foot. Michonne sat up quickly and stabbed the walker in one of her eyes. As soon as she had removed her knife from the dead woman's skull, she jumped on her feet and scanned the area to be sure there wasn't any other threat. When she was sure it was safe, she found her katana and ran back to the cabin.

Michonne got in, closed the door and put the desk back behind the door. She took a few deep breathes to calm down and decided to check on Daryl. She knelt next to him on the mattress still laid on the floor and touched his forehead with the back of her hand.

"Damn, no…" she worried, feeling it was warmer than usual.

Michonne rapidly uncovered him and realized he was burning up and was covered with sweat. She stood up, grabbed the oil lamp and lit it up. She put the lamp next to Daryl and examined his wounds. She let out a curse when she found out that the one on his thigh was red and swollen; it was infected. When she touched the cut to test the stitches, Daryl tried to jerk his leg away and moaned in protest.

"Daryl, I'm sorry…" Michonne apologised, looking at the injured man's face.

"Damn, woman…It hurts…" he complained in a weak voice, his eyes half closed, "can you put the covers back, I'm freezing…"

"Daryl, you have a fever," she explained, touching his forehead again. "The wound on your thigh is infected."

The redneck ran his hand in his face, sighing. He could have been told that something was wrong because he was feeling weaker than before.

"And we don't have any meds, do we?" Daryl demanded, already knowing the answer.

Michonne shook her head and gently squeezed his hand but released it when she saw him tense. The hunter knew that without antibiotics he was screw. Blood infection wasn't the kind of thing that was disappearing by itself when the victim was taking enough rest.

"Don't worry, Rick's going to be back soon," Michonne assured, trying to sound convincing. "And until then, I'm gonna take care of you."

She stood up and went to get the bucket of water with a clean cloth; she needed to try to get the fever down. She took more time than needed to get back to Daryl. She didn't want him to know how much she was worrying. Yes, she was worried about him but also about Rick. He had left more than fifteen hours ago and wasn't come back yet. She knew that a lot of things could have happened to him out there.

* * *

**Flashback (group)**

"What do you think?" Glenn asked, scanning the area, his hand over his eyes to protect his vision from the sun. "It looks quiet and safe."

"The fences seem strong," Rick agreed pensively, a hand on his gun the other one on his hip. "But we don't know about what's going on inside."

"We should go take a look…"

Glenn and Rick had left earlier that morning and had decided to try to find a new shelter. They had taken a car and had driven for about thirty minutes when they ended up in the small courtyard of an elementary school. The yard was surrounded by fences with two gates, one at the front of the building and the other one on its side. They had paced the courtyard and they had found out that the fences seemed to be untouched. They hadn't seen any walkers yet and there was no sign of humans either.

"Yea, come on," Rick said, walking toward the main entrance.

Glenn reached for the door and was glad to find it unlocked. Quietly, they both stepped inside and checked every room they were passing. Almost all of them were free of walkers, except the cafeteria where they killed four walkers and the gym with about ten walkers, most of them kids. They didn't observe any clue letting them think that people had come in recently and found plenty of canned food in the back store of the cafeteria. The school was a one level building without any basement, so Rick and Glenn were pretty sure they had covered the entire place after about an hour of search.

Before leaving they decided to get rid of the corpses lots of them were children they didn't want to let the rest of the group see that, especially the kids. So they used food carts from the cafeteria to move the dead out of the school and throw them out of the courtyard. They would ask someone to help bury them when they got back.

Glenn and Rick returned to the church in the middle of the day to tell the rest of the group what they had found. Everyone welcomed the news with enthusiasm, especially the kids who guessed they would find a lot of toys and games in the school. They left the church and arrived to their new shelter at the end of the afternoon. They locked the gates and used the truck and bus to reinforce them.

Later that night, the adults were sitting in the cafeteria while the children were sleeping on small blue mattresses found in the gym. They were planning things that had to be done in the morning when Rick stood up.

"I talked with Michonne and Tyreese early, and we decided that we'll leave tomorrow," Rick announced, a bit uncomfortable. "We're going to look for Daryl…We don't know where the Governor took him, but we have at least to try to find him."

The rest of the group agreed with their decision; they were all worried about Daryl. They knew they couldn't just keep going without doing anything to find him.

"Bring him back, please," Carol whispered, surprising everyone around her.

It was one of the only times Carol was coherent since the accident with the branch when she had left the prison.

"Yes, Carol…I'll do everything I can," Rick assured, smiling. "I promise…"

* * *

**Flashback (Daryl)**

Daryl was roughly wakened when someone splashed him with cold water. He opened his eyes and realized he was lying on his stomach on the cold concrete floor of the room in the basement.

"Wake up, Dixon," Martinez yelled, pointing his flashlight at the redneck. "The nap is over…You've been out for hours now…It's time to eat something."

The Hispanic man moved the light next to Daryl and showed him that a bottle of water and a bowl of oatmeal had been deposited there. When he was sure the hunter had seen them, he turned off the light and left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

Groaning in pain, Daryl sat up and found out that there were no handcuffs around his wrists. It was the first time his hands weren't tied since he had been captured. But when he moved his legs, he realized that one of his ankles was bound to the chain. He couldn't see anything, so with his hands he tried to find out if he could get it off. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like he could do something about it. A thick metal ring had been placed around his ankle above his boot, the chain had been attached to it and a padlock was locking them in place.

Daryl didn't know how he ended up in the basement. The last thing he remembered was being whipped by the Governor and passing out from the pain and exhaustion. He supposed Martinez with the help of someone else had brought him back here. He didn't know exactly how bad his back was, but it was really painful. He knew he wouldn't be able to lay on it for a while.

Sighing, Daryl reached for the water and the bowl where he thought they had been disposed. When he found the bottle, he drank half of the water he hadn't realized how thirsty he was until then. He took the bowl and when he tasted the oatmeal he found out it was cold like the day before. He was a bit disappointed because he was beginning to shiver. His pants and hair were wet thanks to Martinez who had thrown water at him a few minutes ago and the basement air and floor were already really cold. The Governor had taken off his shirt and he was now bare chest. It was giving him nothing to warm himself up. So he finished his oatmeal and stood up to walk around, rubbing his arms covered with goose bumps.

Daryl thought about his situation as a captive and began to worry. Obviously, the Governor had no intention to kill him, well not yet. And if he decided to keep torturing him like that every day, without giving him more food or water and without allowing him to stay warm, he knew he would get weak quickly. It was probably what the Governor was planning taking away all the strength he could have, to finally breaking him and killing him. This torture could last as long as his captor wanted, and the redneck had nothing to say about it, except if he found a way to escape this place or to kill himself.

Daryl kept thinking about his options for a while and when it was always leading to a dead end, his thoughts skipped to his brother. What the Governor told him was true; even if Merle had been a real asshole, he had always been stronger than him. His older brother had been a fighter, never letting his head down in front of the adversity. "_Martinez was right Daryl_," thought shaking his head. "_Merle would be ashamed to see me like that. Passing out from being whipped, just like a fucking pussy_!"

When the door opened after a while and Martinez entered the room with his flashlight, Daryl decided to play the obedient prisoner and waited for the moment his captors would let their guards down. And when the opportunity would happen, he would get out of this place, get his strength back and come back to kill as many as possible, the Governor and Martinez in priority.

"How's your back doing?" Martinez asked, pointing his light in Daryl's eyes.

"Not too bad," the redneck lied. "I've been subjected to worse…" he added, remembering how much he had suffered when he was a kid.

"Interesting but did you get the lesson and are you going to fight again?"

"I did and I won't."

"Really!? That's a lot of improvement in only few hours…" Martinez suspected, crossing his arms on his chest.

"It's him that I wanna fight, not you."

"If you say so John, time to handcuff him."

When John appeared in the doorway, a baseball bat in his hands, Daryl looked at him and frowned.

"You have to understand that I can't trust you, Dixon," the Hispanic man explained, taking a key and a pair of cuffs from his pocket. "Now on your knees and your hands behind your head."

Daryl obeyed without hesitation. Martinez locked the handcuffs around his wrists and removed the metal ring from around his ankle. He helped the hunter up and led him outside the room. When they arrived in the hall, the redneck was surprised when he came face to face with a boy of about five or six years old. He was followed by a girl about his age and they were obviously running after each other. The kids were looking at him with curiosity, not showing any sign of fear.

"Jimmy, Isabel, come here now!" a woman in her late twenties ordered from the bottom of the huge staircase next to the living room. She looked at Daryl with anger and climbed the stairs quickly, followed by the two children.

"It's cold and it's raining outside the kids wanted to stay inside," Martinez explained, pulling on the redneck's arm and walking toward the Governor's office. "What's wrong?" he asked when he noted that Daryl was looking at him with disbelieve.

"You're keeping kids in a house where you torture people and where the yard is occupied by military tanks that you use to kill human beings?"

"I don't see anything wrong about that. We are doing what needs to be done…" the Hispanic man said, shrugging.

Daryl shook his head; they weren't really thinking that torturing human beings was the solution. They were dumber and crazier than he thought.

They stopped in front of the library and Martinez knocked at the door. After about a minute, the door opened and the Governor appeared in the doorframe.

"There's an emergency I need to take care of," the tall man said, looking up and down at Daryl's body and grinning when he saw the big bruise on his stomach. "Take him in the backyard and tie him up at one of the poles. I'm sure he'll appreciate breathing fresh air after spending so much time inside. I'll go find him when I'm done."

Martinez nodded and, pushing Daryl in front of him walked into a corridor leading to the back of the house. When the Hispanic man opened the door, the cold air blew around them making the men shiver. Now the redneck understood why the kids didn't want to go outside.

"Come on," Martinez ordered, pulling Daryl by the upper arm and heading toward a circle made of metal poles in the middle of the backyard.

"You're kidding , its fucking cold!" the redneck objected while the rain was running down his face.

"Fill a complaint! Lets go, I don't want to get pneumonia," the Hispanic man said.

They stopped in front of a pole and Martinez grabbed the chain hanging from the top. At this moment, Daryl felt the other man's hand loosening his grip around his arm. Without thinking twice, the redneck pushed Martinez with his elbow making him release him completely and bump into the pole. Daryl took the opportunity to escape and looked around quickly to decide of his possibilities. He spotted a small gate in the wall about a hundred meters away that he hadn't seen when he arrived the first day and choose to make a run for it.

"Fuck," Martinez cursed behind him. "HELP THE PRISONER IS ESCAPING!" he yelled, pointing at the direction where the redneck was heading.

Daryl saw from the corner of his eye that John was getting out of the back door and running after him with his bat. But he was too far away, so he wasn't an imminent threat. The hunter kept running until he arrived a few feet away from the gate and noted movement on the other side. He slowed his pace and carefully closed the distance between him and the exit.

"Oh, shit!"

There were about twenty walkers wandering around the other side of the wall and when they spotted him they tried to grip him through the gate. Daryl was going to turn around and found another escape when Shumpert came up from behind him.

"Jackass!" the black man said, before hitting Daryl's head with the end of his rifle. The redneck dropped on the wet ground, unconscious.

* * *

**Please, let me know what you think...Reviews and comments are like rewards to me and they help my muse.**


	6. Chapter 5

**_Warnings_: it is a dark fic, so don't read if you don't like that kind of story. Violence, torture, possible rape (slash), characters' death. **

**Unfortunately, I don't own the Walking Dead. A special thanks to my beta 'Spitfire47' who's doing a really great job.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Present**

Michonne was really worried; Daryl's state was getting worse. He kept moaning in pain, shaking and sweating. He was been in and out of consciousness, bumbling incoherent words when he was awake. She was doing everything she could to get the fever down. She had thought about dragging Daryl in the lake but it was really cold and she was scared he would suffer of hypothermia. Michonne had laid a blanket on the floor and moved Daryl on it. She wetted a sheet with fresh water and covered his body with it. She didn't want the mattress to get soaked because it was the only one they had and if the redneck was doing better, he could use it again.

Michonne cleaned Daryl's infected wound a few times, hoping to get rid of the bacteria causing the infection. But she knew if he was burning up like that it meant the infection had already spread into his entire body.

Michonne was on the edge of the lake getting fresh water. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was already low in the sky. Daryl wasn't responding anymore and had been unconscious for a few hours now. She knew he wouldn't make it through the night without medications, and even with antibiotics, it was possible it would be too late to make a difference. But even if she was despondent, she allowed herself to hope that Rick would be back in time with everything they needed to save Daryl's life. It wasn't because they were now living in an apocalyptic world that miracles couldn't exist anymore.

Michonne was walking back to the cabin when she heard the noise of an engine heading in her way. She quickly retreated the bushes near the lake, her katana ready to be used. About a minute later, a thin smile appeared on her face when she recognized their black car pulling over next to the cabin and Rick getting out of vehicle. But her smile faded as soon as she saw blood on his friend's shirt.

"Oh my god, Rick…Are you okay?" she asked, running toward him. "What happened?"

"Martinez…He shot me when I was getting some gas from a car on the main road. Didn't hear him coming," Rick explained, opening the door of the back seat and taking a bag from it. "But don't worry; the bullet just grazed my arm."

"Where is he now?" Michonne demanded, grabbing a box and walking to the door.

"Don't know…I know he was following me so I had to drive him away from here. It's why it took me so long to come back…Sorry."

They entered into the cabin and put their stuff on the table. Rick glanced toward Daryl and turned at the black woman, a worried look on his face.

"How is he? What's going on?"

"He has an infection…He's burning up and he's been out for hours…Please tell me you found antibiotics…"

"Yea," Rick said, opening the bag. "I found a bottle but it's expired. I figured out it still could work because it was the only one I found. I also found a bottle of painkillers, two first aid kits, water and food. I think we'll be good for a while."

He took the bottle of antibiotics from the bag and gave it to Michonne who removed the lid and took two pills from it. She grabbed a bottle of water from the table and knelt behind Daryl's head.

"Help me, we need to sit him up," she demanded, her hands under the injured man.

Rick walked closer and pulled Daryl up before letting him lean his back against Michonne's chest. He sat next to the hunter, and patted his cheek gently.

"Daryl, wake up, man."

When they noted no change, Rick decided to be rougher, but without results.

"Maybe we should try to splash his head with the water of the bucket…" Michonne suggested. "I left the bucket outside at the edge of the lake."

Rick nodded, took the flashlight and went outside. He came back a minute later with the fresh water.

"Don't worry, I don't mind getting wet," Michonne assured when he gave her a warning look before pouring the water over Daryl's head.

As soon as the cold water touch the redneck, his entire body shifted and he tried to move away. Panicked, Daryl opened his eyes and not being able to figure out where he was or what was happening, he raised his hands in the air to protect himself from Rick.

"Shhh, Daryl…Calm down…It's me, it's Rick."

After about a minute, they got him calmed down enough even though it didn't seem like he was completely conscious, Michonne brought the bottle of water to Daryl's lips.

"Daryl, you need to drink some water and to take those pills," she murmured at his ear. "They're going to help you get better."

After several attempts, they finally managed to make him swallow the antibiotics and two painkillers with a few sips of water. When they were done, they laid him back down on the blanket and wetted the sheet which was getting warm with fresh water before putting it back to him.

Rick and Michonne both sat on the couch, and looking at each other, they hoped they made it in time to save their friends.

* * *

**Flashback (group)**

Michonne and Rick were standing next to Daryl's bike while Tyreese was taking a pee in the woods. They had left the group early in the morning and after a few hours of driving they needed to take a short break. So, after they had passed in front of the prison, they decided to stop for a few minutes.

"Where do you think they could have gone?" Michonne asked to Rick whose eyes were fixing at the motorcycle.

"I don't know," he answered, shrugging. Even if he wanted to find Daryl more than anything he knew searching him was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Do you have an idea why the Governor had taken Daryl? I thought he wanted to see us dead…"

"For revenge…To keep him as bait…"

"Hey guys," Tyreese called from the edge of the forest. "You should come to see this."

Curious, Michonne and Rick quickly joined their friend and followed him through the woods. After a few minutes, they stopped at the edge of a clearing where two tents were settled around the ashes of an old fire. The former officer took his python from his belt and walked carefully toward the tents. After he had taken a look inside both of them, he concluded that no one was camping there anymore.

"Rick, we found something else," Michonne said, beckoning him to follow her.

They stopped at the bottom of a big tree where a lot of small broken branches were covering the ground. Tyreese had climbed up the tree and was looking at something in front of him.

"What is it?"

"From up here, we have a pretty good view of the prison," the black man explained. "I think they were spying on us."

After Tyreese had climbed down, they looked around to try to find some clue. After a few minutes, Rick found tire tracks on the ground at the other side of the clearing. They followed the tracks and found out that they ended about half mile away where they joined the main road.

"Well, it seems like they were always heading that way," Rick observed, looking at the tire tracks turning on the right when meeting the road. "We should head this way…"

They walked back to their car and followed the road they thought the Governor and his men could have taken. They crossed a sign after a few minutes of driving where they could read 'Woodbury 6 miles'.

* * *

**Flashback (Daryl)**

Daryl was slowly regaining consciousness at the sound of voices around him. His head was throbbing his back was hatching and burning. He opened his eyes and didn't recognise the room where he was. The ceiling was as high as the hall and the Governor's office so he guessed he was on the first floor. There was a huge window in front of him and he could see through a thin curtain that it was sunny outside. He was lying on a bunk bed and when he tried to move, he found out that his hands were cuffed to the metal bed frame above his head and his bare feet at the edge of the bed.

"Well look who's awake," a female voice he didn't know said from the doorway. "I told you he wasn't going to die."

Daryl looked toward the door and saw a woman with long dark grey dress walking closer. Behind her, the Governor was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed on his chest looking really upset.

"Who the fuck are you?" Daryl asked to the woman, ignoring the other man.

"Stay polite, Daryl, she's the one who's taking care of you," the Governor warned, obviously trying to stay calm.

"If she's taking care of me like you did when you poured alcohol on my back, asshole, I'm gonna talk to her like I want!" the redneck protested, beginning to be really furious. His headache was getting worst and the pain in his back was starting to be intolerable.

The Governor stormed towards the bed, his hands balled into fists when the woman stopped him by gently putting a hand on his chest.

"It's okay Philip, I take it from here…You should leave the room before you go too far," she said, showing him the door.

The Governor hesitated but nodded and left the room. The woman came back next to the bed and slapped Daryl on the cheek.

"What the fuck was that for?" the hunter asked, surprised.

"I don't tolerate that kind of language in my infirmary," she explained, her hands on her hips. "And since you are our enemy, I have no reason to make an exception for you."

"Your enemy!? Right…" Daryl said, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Well, my name is Suzan and I'm a nurse. Because you tried to escape yesterday, you received a rough hit to the head that caused an opened wound. You have a concussion and Philip didn't want your state to get worse. So I stitched you up. But you were unconscious for more than ten hours, so he thought it was more serious than it looks like."

"Why does he care if it gets worse?" the redneck asked, not understanding the Governor's motive.

"I don't know and it's none of my business."

"So, you're supposed to taking care of me!? Well, can I have painkillers? My head hurts as hell…And can you uncuff me so I can turn on my side? My back is really painful in case you didn't notice that I was injured back there too."

Suzan looked at him and smiled, shaking her head.

"The answers are simple; no and no. I know about your back it's hard to miss since the sheet under you is stained with blood."

"But why am I in the infirmary if you're not gonna help me?" Daryl demanded, beginning to think that something was really wrong with her.

"We don't care if you're in pain, as long as you heal," she explained, walking toward the door.

"You're leaving me like this?"

"Yes…But don't worry, I'll come to check on you to be sure you're still alive."

Before Daryl had the time to protest, she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Daryl stayed alone in the room for a few hours. Like she had told him, Suzan came time to time to check on him, but she was just opening the door and when she noted that his state wasn't getting worse, she was closing it back. The hunter was extremely exhausted; he was in a lot of pain and couldn't do anything about it. He tried to shift his body angle to decrease the pressure on his back, but because his hands and ankles were attached at each corner of the bed, it was impossible. It seemed like they tied him up that way to be sure he was suffering as much as possible. His head was also really painful and each time he was moving it, he felt dizzy. He was glad when the sun was setting down because the light was too bright for his sensitive eyes. After a while, his body couldn't take it anymore so he just passed out.

* * *

Daryl didn't know for how long he was out, but when he woke up, he wasn't in the infirmary anymore, but in a small room of which the two small windows were covered with a thick wooden plank. The walls were painted blue with a wallpaper border at mid high covered with green dinosaurs. There was a small bunk bed with a dusty mattress on which he was lying, a chair and a small cupboard of which the drawers had been removed.

Daryl was lying on his back and like a few hours ago, it was still painful. So he shifted a little and realized his ankles and his hands weren't cuffed to the bed frame. Groaning, he rolled over his side to get comfortable and noticed that he didn't have any pillow of blanket. Well, at least the room wasn't as cold as the basement.

After a few minutes, Daryl decided to sit up to check how his head was doing. He still had a big headache but wasn't feeling dizzy anymore. When the put his feet on the floor, he heard a familiar clank noise. He looked down and found out that he had his boots back and his right ankle was chained to the metal bed frame. He stood up and walked to take a look at how long was the chain. It was about 3 feet long, not long enough to reach the door. So he tried to pull the bed with him but realized it was fixed to the floor with several screws.

Sighing, Daryl sat back on the bed and leaning his elbows on his knees, he took his head in his hands. He was totally lost about what the Governor wanted from him. "_Why the hell was he worried about my concussion? And why did he care if it was getting worse?"_ he thought, massaging his scalp with his fingers. He didn't have any answers for his questions and guessed he would have to wait to understand the Governor's intentions.

Daryl was dozing off when he heard the door being unlocked. He sat up and wasn't surprised to see Martinez entering the room.

"I brought you a bottle of water," the Hispanic man said, throwing the bottle to Daryl.

"No food? I'm fucking hungry."

"Nope…Philip thinks you don't deserve it. He's really pissed at you right now. You shouldn't have tried to escape."

"I have no reason to stay here and I don't give a fuck if he's pissed."

"You should be, because from now on, you'll have to earn what you get…Like food…" Martinez explained, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms on his chest.

"You're kidding, right?! That bastard kidnapped me so he can torture me when he wants and I have to be obedient if I want to get fed?" Daryl snapped out, furious.

"Yea, something like that the only thing you're going to have each day is water."

"So why doesn't he just killed me instead?"

"Well, I think it's more fun to see you weak and begging him to not be too rough with you…"

"Fuck you…I would never beg him for anything," Daryl assured, looking at Martinez with disgust. "I would rather die…"

"Believe me, with what is coming for you, you'll beg!"

* * *

**Please, let me know what you think...Reviews and comments are like rewards to me and they help my muse.**


End file.
